Se Questo è Levi

 

Itinerant Performance/Reading on the Works of Primo Levi - Special Ubu Award 2019 Ubu Award 2019 - Best Actor or Performer under 35 to Andrea Argentieri

  • With Andrea Argentieri
  • Directed by Luigi De Angelis
  • Dramaturgy by Chiara Lagani
  • Organization by Maria Donnoli, Marco Molduzzi
  • Communication and Promotion by Maria Donnoli
  • Produced by E/Fanny&Alexander

Based on audio and video documents from the Rai archives, Andrea Argentieri takes on the role of writer Primo Levi, adopting his voice, gestures, postures, tones, and first-person speeches. It is an intimate encounter, where the writer, grounded in the truth that inspired his works, testifies to his experience in the concentration camps with a lucid testimony technique, distilling memory with the clarity of a gaze capable of expressing the unspeakable from the seemingly serene perimeter of reason.

Year : 2018

Three symbolic locations have been identified where the writer can be encountered: a private study, a lecture hall, and the room of a municipal council. Each of these three places poses a different question in relation to three of Levi’s works: If This Is a Man, The Periodic Table, The Drowned and the Saved. The most intimate relationship between Levi and his writing, the vital necessity of testimony, his relationship with his father and family, his belonging to Jewish culture; the lifelong relationship between chemistry and writing, the dignity of labor, and the communal function of literature; the public need for a narrative that possesses the scientific transparency of a chemical process; the theme of judgment, the inquiry into the necessity of suspending hatred in favor of an analytical entomological curiosity.

Through the technique of remote acting and hetero-direction, Andrea Argentieri creates a portrait of the writer that is based on the vertigo of a question: how much is this testimony still biting and capable of speaking to us through the sensitivity of an actor who allows himself to be permeated by the original materials left to us by that writer? Can the epiphany of a voice, of a body-soul, imprinted in the body of an actor much younger than the model-imprint he pursues, evoke even more compellingly the power and necessity of its testimony?

If This Is Levi is an actor’s portrait. It is the attempt to materialize the experience of recounting, face to face with the writer.

The Obsession with Super Realism

In his book The Drowned and the Saved, Primo Levi speaks of an almost obsessive attempt at super-realism in the German translation of If This Is a Man, wanting the translation to be a kind of direct tape recorder of experience, a sort of back-vision of the language or a posteriori restoration… This obsession was the driving force behind the project If This Is Levi and its guiding principle. To put an interpreter, an actor, in the position of being permeated by the recorded voice of another life, to wear that voice like a skin, to take a spiritual bath in it, to soak it up, like a ball of wool soaking up water. Inside the voice of a writer with as multifaceted a personality as Primo Levi’s lies a rich world, full of emotions, held back or released. In it, one can glimpse a complex watermark; hidden in the grain of the voice are the traumas of experience, but most of all, the full force of character, reason, and mission. In If This Is Levi, the performer does not read, but is “read” by a foreign voice that passes through them, making them react to – as in a chemical process – the sound material that is delivered to them via an earpiece, which they immediately reproduce, having studied the writer’s proxemics, facial expressions, and both their inner and outward emotions, having allowed that other life, that other spiritual skin, to dwell in them through a sonic bath. It is a form of mimicry by proximity, where one must know how to make space, welcome, seek out the inner similarities, the correspondences with one’s own experiences, respect, reverberate; it is a form of meditative observation, where one must not give in to volitional or affirming temptations but rather know how to capture, become an antenna, intercept, be permeated, and let it flow. As Marco Belpoliti points out in Primo Levi, Front and Profile, in Levi’s writing, the force of orality can be felt, as if Levi were primarily an oral writer rather than a pen writer. One can hear in his writing his need for testimony, as if his texts had been “tested” first in train journeys, at home, in conferences, in front of various audiences he encountered and never avoided… Conversely, his radio or television interviews are incredibly lucid, as if they were written the moment they were uttered, showing a continuity between orality and writing in both directions. For this reason, we chose not to stage Primo Levi’s literary works, apart from a few excerpts from The Periodic Table, but rather to linger in the overwhelming power of his oral language, from which vivid concepts emerge that seem to be spoken for the first time in the instant they are uttered by the interpreter, making them seem like words of today, sharp arrows, political responses to the grey area of these times.

Luigi De Angelis

TOUR

  • 28 January 2018 | Bologna, La Via Zamboni for the 2018 Day of Remembrance
  • 10-13 October 2018 | Ravenna, Fèsta018
  • 9-10 March 2019 | Carpi (MO), Vie Festival
  • 29 June 2019 | San Gimignano (SI), Nottilucenti
  • 30/31 July 2019 | Rimini, Le Città Visibili
  • 9/10/11 August 2019 | Albenga (SV), Terreni Creativi Festival
  • 6/7 September 2019 | Mantua, Festival della Letteratura
  • 20 October 2019 | Massafra (TA), Teatro delle Forche
  • 22-24 November 2019 | Rome, Teatro Argentina
  • 17 December 2019 | Zurich, Politecnico Federale
  • 23 January 2020 | Casalecchio di Reno (BO), Teatro Comunale Laura Betti (matinee)
  • 24 January 2020 | Modena, Istituto Storico della Resistenza
  • 26 January 2020 | Reggio Emilia, Sala degli Specchi del Teatro Valli
  • 27 January 2020 | Bologna, Aula del Consiglio Comunale
  • 19/27 January 2020 | Bologna, Museo Ebraico (AD ORA INCERTA)
  • 1 February 2020 | Valdagno (VI), Biblioteca e Aula del Consiglio Comunale
  • 7-9 February 2020 | Cremona, Teatro A. Ponchielli
  • 16/23 February 2020 | Bentivoglio (BO), Castello – Istituto Ramazzini
  • 1 July 2021 | Naples, Emeroteca Tucci – Palazzo delle Poste Centrali
  • 2 September 2021 | Forlì, Festival Crisalide – Teatro Felix Guattari
  • 14 September 2021 | Pistoia, Teatri di Confine – Villa Stonorov
  • 14 October 2021 | Faenza, MEME Festival, Sala del Consiglio del Comune
  • 18-20 February 2022 | Rome, Angelo MAI
  • 23 April 2022 | Castel Maggiore (BO), Agorà, Teatro Biagi D’Antona
  • 7-8 May 2022 | Brussels, Kunsten Festival Des Arts – Belgian Senate
  • 1 October 2022 | Belluno, Vertigini, Teatro Comunale
  • 2 December 2022 | Pavullo (MO), Teatro Mac Mazzieri
  • 5 December 2022 | Fidenza (PR), Teatro Magnani
  • 6 December 2022 | Scandiano (RE), Teatro Boiardo
  • 7 December 2022 | Morciano di Romagna (RN), Auditorium della Fiera
  • 24 January 2023 | London (UK), Italian Cultural Institute
  • 27 and 28 January 2023 | Ravenna, Sala del Consiglio Comunale
  • 30 January 2023 | Venice, Asteroide Amor @ M9 Museo del ‘900
  • 31 January 2023 | Venice, Asteroide Amor @ Teatro Goldoni
  • 3 February 2023 | Bucharest (Romania), Teatro Ebraico in collaboration with the Italian Cultural Institute
  • 5 February 2023 | Cluj-Napoca (Romania), Tranzit House in collaboration with the Italian Cultural Institute
  • 22-24 June 2023 | Shanghai (CN), Great Theatre of China in collaboration with the Italian Cultural Institute
  • 25 January 2024 | Tirana (AL), Teatro Metropol in collaboration with the Italian Cultural Institute
  • 27 January 2024 | Vicenza, Sala del Consiglio Comunale
  • 6-7 March 2024 | Milan, Palazzo Marino
  • 27 January 2025 | Cascina, La Città del Teatro
  • 29 January 2025 | Pergine, Teatro Comunale

[ph. Koen Broos]

An Arts Festival With Hardly a Stage in Sight

Performance venues at this year’s Kunstenfestivaldesarts, in Brussels, included a disused museum and the upper house of Belgium’s Parliament, by Laura Cappelle | The New York Times, May 13, 2022

As the biggest performing arts festival in Brussels began last weekend, there were few traditional stages to be seen. Instead, audiences gathered in colonial-era monuments, a defunct railway museum, and even the debating chamber of Belgium’s Senate.

There were practical reasons for the many site-specific performances in this month-long event, called Kunstenfestivaldesarts, explained Daniel Blanga Gubbay, one of the festival’s directors, during a break between performances. After two years of pandemic disruptions, many theaters in Brussels were already booked with rescheduled shows this year. […]

Se questo è Levi, a one-man show, channels the solemnity of the upper house of Belgium’s Parliament. It is a testament to the festival’s creativity that the organizers secured permission to stage an entire performance inside the Senate’s debating chamber, with the audience watching from the lion-decorated seats of Belgian senators.

Se questo è Levi, created by the Italian company Fanny & Alexander, features excerpts from interviews given by Primo Levi, a survivor of Auschwitz who wrote about his camp experience in If This Is a Man. The audience plays the role of the interviewer: A list of questions is provided, and they may ask them in any order. As soon as Andrea Argentieri, who portrays Levi, finishes one answer, anyone can speak up, using the microphone at each senator’s table.

It may be artificial, but it is strangely moving to address Levi, who passed away in 1987, so personally. When I asked him, “In your opinion, can you erase the humanity of a man?” Argentieri, who mimics Levi’s demeanor down to the way he rests his glasses on his forehead, looked at me for a few seconds with unspoken pain before answering.

Would it work in other contexts? It’s debatable, but in the Belgian Senate, Levi’s eloquent thoughts on the Holocaust and its legacy took on the gravitas of an official hearing, preserving them for posterity. Perhaps they should be heard there more often.

Se questo è Levi, like nearly all the other performances at Kunstenfestivaldesarts, was translated into three languages: French, Dutch (the main languages spoken in Belgium), and English. (The Senate provides headsets for simultaneous translation, and other venues use subtitles.) That might seem standard in Brussels, the multilingual home of the European Union’s main institutions, but the city’s theater scene isn’t quite accustomed to it.

••••••

Mimetismo per vicinanza, by Ludovico Cantisani | Persinsala, February 20, 2022

The Fanny & Alexander company reinterprets the person – even before the work – of Primo Levi through a theatrical journey of particular depth and reflection. On stage at Angelo Mai.

Winner of two UBU awards in 2019 – for Best Performer Under 35 for Andrea Argentieri and an UBU Special Award for the project suitable for the entire company – Se questo è Levi by Fanny & Alexander returns to Rome. In the production staged at Angelo Mai, Argentieri portrays the writer and chemist from Piedmont at the center of an audience arranged on all four sides of the actor. The audience is given a list of around thirty questions to ask Levi in any order; the answers are all based on statements actually made by Levi in numerous public encounters and interviews, many of which are now preserved in the Rai archives, either on television or radio.

This exploration of Primo Levi’s public testimonies, beyond Se questo è un uomo which marked its beginning, on one hand highlights the semantic ambiguity that runs between witness and martyr, and on the other represents for Fanny & Alexander the occasion for an ambitious yet minimalist reflection on the status of the actor.”In Se questo è Levi, the performer does not read, but is ‘read’ by a foreign voice that passes through him, reacting to the sound material presented to him through an earpiece, which he instantly responds to, having studied the writer’s proxemics, facial expressions, and his inner and outer emotions,” reads the director’s notes, signed by Luigi De Angelis. “A form of mimicry by proximity,” is the conclusion. By openly applying the formulas of remote acting and hetero-direction, Argentieri pushes the practice of acting mimesis to a radical, almost sinister threshold, blending testimony and performance in a paradoxical but not illusory resurrection of Levi.

Fanny & Alexander have always conducted interesting experiments in the theatrical adaptation of works that are not traditionally theatrical: among their most recent efforts, the show Sylvie & Bruno, presented shortly after the release of the new Einaudi translation of Lewis Carroll’s novel of the same name by Chiara Lagani, a co-founder of Fanny & Alexander and the dramaturge of Se questo è Levi. As Levi himself stated in one of his answers included in the show, and as Marco Belpoliti notes in Primo Levi di fronte e di profilo, Levi’s writing possessed an intrinsic orality, and the writing of Se questo è un uomo had gradually overlapped with similar oral testimonies from the survivor, starting from the first weeks after his return to Turin, following the long journey narrated in La tregua.

A kind of symmetrical operation to the one attempted by Fanny & Alexander in Se questo è Levi – through the acting of Andrea Argentieri – can be found in the chapter Lettera ai tedeschi (Letter to the Germans) from I sommersi e i salvati (The Drowned and the Saved), placed, not coincidentally, at the end of the performance. In Lettera ai tedeschi, Levi recalled the history of the German translation of Se questo è un uomo, and the special relationship that developed with the translator. Reflecting retrospectively on that translation, thanks to the correspondence exchanged with the translator, Levi admitted to a claim of “super-realism” in the rendering of the text, which was all the more crucial in the German edition, since it was in that language that most of the orders and commands Levi heard at Auschwitz were spoken. Recalling also the positive reviews that specifically praised the style of the German edition of Se questo è un uomo, Levi acknowledged the translator’s fundamental and notable fidelity, despite the many lexical compromises the translator had persuaded him to make in order to adapt the camp jargon to the German spoken at the time.

Since these words close the show, it is clear that Fanny & Alexander hope to have demonstrated the same fidelity and mutual super-realism in translating Levi’s person onto the stage. As we can judge, with Argentieri even imitating Levi’s lapses during speeches, this fidelity exists and takes mimesis to its extreme. Behind the show and its simplicity lies a considerable theoretical effort, with numerous implications induced by the status of the organic simulacrum in which Argentieri is placed. But recovering, with the artwork in the age of technical reproducibility, the paradoxical challenge of a physical, organic, bodily reproducibility of the actor – is no small feat. It is, moreover, the opposite of that identification with the character so heavily promoted by the Actors’ Studio and similar methods: identification is aimed at characters, whereas imitation, at least in this form, is directed at a person who had a historical experience and imposed a very specific social function. Thus, Se questo è Levi brings to us the echo of Levi’s testimony: in a form far stronger and denser than any archival recording.

••••••

Ieri come oggi e come domani?, by Caris Ienco | Persinsala, October 17, 2020

What would happen if, after many years, a historical personality returned among us and we could ask them questions? This is not exactly what happens, but something very similar in Se questo è Levi, by Fanny & Alexander – a multi-award-winning show in 2019, presented as part of the Materia Prima festival at the Chiostro Grande of Santa Maria Novella.

Seated in two rows, like at a Pitti Uomo fashion show, we wait expectantly for the performer to appear in front of us. In the meantime, we consult a list of questions. A voice instructs us on the behavior expected from the audience, and shortly after, the actor, Andrea Argentieri, enters. He looks like Primo Levi, the Piedmontese chemist/writer and Auschwitz survivor.

The show begins, the performance begins!

The performance starts with a re-enactment of an interview with Primo Levi, taken from some Rai archive footage – some of which can easily be found on YouTube. On stage, however, the interviewer is missing because we, the audience, must play that role. The audience will dictate the order and rhythm of the scene. There is a written script, but it is fragmented and can be recomposed depending on the sensitivity of the present audience – and through this theatrical game, the famous interview is reworked.

Throughout the performance, the deportation of Levi is discussed, as well as human cruelty, but also the work of a chemist. The historical figure is present, entirely for us. The performer ‘becomes’ the interviewee through remote acting, hetero-directional – as described by the members of Fanny & Alexander. In simple terms, the actor is ‘possessed’ by an audio that suggests the correct answers – the real and authentic ones. Argentieri no longer exists; he is Primo Levi, literally, in every word and attitude. There is no free interpretation, nor a didactic one, but rather a reproduction of the model of the Piedmontese writer. The goal is to remain faithful to the idea that Primo Levi wanted to convey in Sommersi e Salvati, namely that of super-realism. The aim is to leave no detail of his reality out. The only freedom that can be allowed is the order of the questions and the rhythm.

Some spectators try to step out of line – either to provoke, out of curiosity, or because they have not understood the ‘rules of the game’ and risk asking off-script questions, to which the actor, rightfully, cannot and should not respond, as that would be a betrayal. The answers are authentic and never free. This attracts and entertains the audience, in addition to moving them. Indeed, it is hard not to be moved by such a strong yet fragile personality, who, despite the doubts surrounding the circumstances of his death, still possesses a vitality, energy, and strength to go on without ever leaving anything behind. The performance touches on historical topics but also very contemporary ones. It would be interesting to see the differences or similarities between different performances. What is discussed is not only curiosity or facts from a past that is still painfully sharp, but reflections on humanity that strike – yesterday as today. Themes of captivity are discussed, but there are also explorations of writing in its deepest sense, the will to live, but also to not disconnect from the past, the duty of memory but, at the same time, the concept of memory: a memory seen as a duty but one that must be carefully considered, as it is degradable, fallible, and, on the other hand, a memory that is too often evoked risks becoming crystallized. The generational contrast stands out: between the younger generation, forced into certain restrictions by COVID-19, but perhaps freer from material and economic constructs, and a world where poverty was feared, but not enough to stop unions or the desire to stay together. Also noticeable is the presence of the youngest generation, the children. The audience member who asked the most questions is from this age group.

••••••

Se questo è Primo Levi. In scena la memoria urgente e i nuovi fascismi, by Giuseppe Marinaro | AGI. Agenzia Italia, October 12, 2020

“Prisoner 174517. I am alive!” Primo Levi ignites the rainy night in Palermo. Under the arcades of Villa Filippina, which have become an improvised theater, substitutes for a sky turned black by water-laden clouds. The unexpected may have made the impact of the chemist-writer, interpreted by the young and intense Andrea Argentieri, even stronger as he walked back and forth throughout the performance, navigating the long ‘human corridor’ of spectators seated on the sides.

The spectators are part of the scene, journalists for an evening, called to ask questions randomly drawn from a list of those answered by the author of Se questo è un uomo in his interviews, primarily preserved in the Rai archives. The questions and answers are faithfully reproduced. The effect is to find ourselves within the continuity of a still vital time, one that has not lost its sharpness because it feeds on an unsettling contemporary reality.

Argentieri, in the work Se questo è Levi, directed by Luigi De Angelis and produced by Fanny & Alexander, takes on the role of the writer using audio and video documents. He embodies the voice, gestures, postures, and first-person speeches of the chemist. This is the experience of recounting lived through a direct encounter with Primo Levi, who, as the creators explain, returns to his condition as a deportee in Auschwitz with a lucid testimony technique, essential to the memory, capable of expressing the unspeakable.

A microphone moves from one point to another, wherever someone wishes to voice the questions that, along with the answers, impose the urgency, power, and necessity of Levi’s testimony. And not just his.

“Do you think atrocities like those in the camps are still possible?” Levi-Argentieri maintains a calm tone throughout, sometimes light, occasionally marked by irony, almost as if trying to keep at bay a ravenous monster that devours the soul, and to prevent horror from neutralizing the urgency of a mission – the mission of memory, which needs clear, relentless reason to be preserved and passed on.

To this question, the writer responds by evoking “the new fascisms,” the still resistant thought of an unequal humanity, where difference fosters distance, rejection, and ghettoization. “Where this verb takes root,” he warns, “in the end, there is the camp.”

Then comes the other question: what is memory? “Memory is a duty. For all men,” especially for those who survived the camps: “One would fail in the duty of transmitting what was lived. There is a slow degradation of memory. Those who were wounded tend to suppress it; those who inflicted the wound tend to bury it” in order to mitigate its impact.

But “the wound is incurable and reproduces over time,” inflicting perpetual pain. Yet, Levi tried, he answered: “We felt the need to throw the past behind us and start again.”

But he was “three things simultaneously: ‘A fiancé, a chemist, and a book.’ Se questo è un uomo was born from the need to leave a trace.” When asked how important his desire to write, to tell, was in his rebirth, he responded: “I came back, I survived for the purpose of writing. I started doing it in the camp, secretly, because it was forbidden to write and those who did were accused of espionage. But the feeling I have is that I survived for this, to tell what I lived.”

The temptation and the denialist maneuver are always lurking. Did the things you tell really happen? “I would say yes,” is Primo Levi’s patient response. “There is often the feeling that all this did not happen, that it’s a novel. Then you have to call someone to confirm, and they do… Yes, these things really happened!”

And “today’s fascism is a step away from becoming yesterday’s; it happens every time the privilege and inequality are consecrated.” The camp, after all, “is integrated fascism, completed, its coronation.” “Prisoner 174517. I am alive. For a purpose, to speak and testify.”

••••••

Primo Levi recalled at Santarcangelo Festival, by Francesco Pace | Il Corriere dello Spettacolo, July 18, 2020

At the Santarcangelo Festival, the Ravenna-based company Fanny & Alexander returns: or rather – as they define themselves – the “art workshop” Fanny & Alexander. Indeed, their shows are “created” and “produced” for the theater in the same way a noble artisan would craft his creations or how the workshop artists made their works of art. The play I sommersi e i salvati is the result of one of these creations, the third in fact, of a trilogy dedicated to Primo Levi (entitled Se questo è Levi). Levi, the writer and chemist, was interned in the Auschwitz concentration camp. The title refers to the final work by the Turin author from 1986, in which he addresses the theme of memory, “a wonderful tool, but flawed.”

The council hall of Santarcangelo di Romagna provides the backdrop for this fascinating narrative/dialogue that Primo Levi (played by the excellent Andrea Argentieri, already the winner of the 2019 Ubu Prize) holds before the audience: his life, his relationship with his family, his Jewish faith; a complete unveiling once again, more than 70 years after the horrors. The audience is an integral part of the performance, the driving force of the action. Each person can ask Primo Levi a question (chosen from a list distributed before the performance), and he responds and discusses his views.

The dramaturgy – and thus Levi’s answers – are by Chiara Lagani, who draws inspiration from the audio and video documents in the Rai archives and from various speeches Levi gave to students during his many visits to schools. In fact, through the technique of heterodirection and remote acting, Andrea Argentieri takes on the posture, voice, and gestures of Primo Levi to such an extent that the words, movements, and stories seem like a free flow of the actor’s/Levi’s thoughts.

The direction, signed by Luigi De Angelis, superbly and successfully sought to evoke the spirit of Levi, attempting to answer the question, “Can the epiphany of a voice, of a body-soul, imprinted on the body of an actor much younger than the model-impetus he follows, still bring forth the power and necessity of his testimony?” In this sense, the director focused on placing Levi’s story in a sort of non-place so that his story could be as authentic as possible, stripping it of any logic tied to “traditional theater” (i.e., sets, special costumes). Another commendation goes to Andrea Argentieri, who naturally took on Levi’s words and gestures, confronting the unpredictability of the action and the audience.

It’s never easy to bring these themes and the stories of such personalities to the stage. I sommersi e i salvati succeeds in making these distant topics more relevant by placing the audience at the center, allowing them – now more than ever – to feel part of the scene.

••••••

Se questo è Levi, by Nicola Arrigoni | Sipario.it, February 12, 2020

“Primo Levi, in his book I sommersi e i salvati, speaks about the almost obsessive attempt to overcome realism in the German translation of Se questo è un uomo, wanting the translation to be a kind of direct tape recorder of the experience, a kind of back-vision to the language or retrospective restoration.” This obsession became the driving force behind the project Se questo è Levi and its guiding principle,” writes Luigi De Angelis in the director’s notes for Se questo è Levi, a three-part journey dedicated to the author of Se questo è un uomo. The director retrieved audio and video materials from the Rai archives and YouTube: interviews with the writer, and created a sound dramaturgy, entrusting these materials to the sensitivity of Andrea Argentieri, an actor under 35 who won the Ubu Prize. Argentieri embodied the voice and words of the writer through the technique of remote acting and heterodirection. This is a stylistic and research hallmark of Fanny & Alexander – as seen in their staging of L’amica geniale – but here it goes further. With Levi, the process is taken a step further, projecting towards an ethical and aesthetic mimetism where the distance of the actor and the proximity to the material being interpreted create a symptomatic short circuit with the space. The key term is the ‘super-realism’ borrowed from Levi, which challenges De Angelis. In his journey into Primo Levi’s thought, the director of Fanny & Alexander seeks three places: a study where he reconstructs the intimate and private writing space of Levi for the first part, Se questo è un uomo; a scientific classroom where the lesson from Il sistema periodico unfolds; and a public space: a square or a town council chamber, where a collective interview with the author of I sommersi e i salvati takes place. The experience can be done on different evenings or in a single occasion for a total immersion in what is characterized as a meeting.

When discussing the Se questo è Levi operation, it seems appropriate to state the “where” and “when.” Paradoxically and emblematically, Se questo è Levi was seen in different spaces within the Teatro Ponchielli in Cremona. Is this a betrayal of the original? Perhaps. Certainly, the theater is, in its own way, a public space, a place that represents the community. Se questo è Levi thus found itself in the non-designated spaces of the theater: the foyer, the large stage of Ponchielli transformed into a scientific classroom and assembly space, serving as the metaphor for those hyper-realistic places sought by De Angelis. In the Cremona performance, these spaces appeared as absolute, making Argentieri’s performance an inquiry of the collective across time and history. But to achieve this, it was initially necessary to create the encounter, to resurrect the Turin writer, embodied by a strikingly similar Andrea Argentieri, who mimics Levi but does not imitate him.

Se questo è un uomo – In Se questo è un uomo, the audience – fifty spectators at a time – settles into the pink room of the Ridotto at Ponchielli. A desk, a typewriter, some pens, and a bookshelf. This is Primo Levi’s study. What happens is an encounter with Levi, his thoughts, reflections on death, his experience in the camps, and his role as an intellectual. Andrea Argentieri – who hears Levi’s voice through almost invisible earphones – does not imitate but is him, does not pretend but lives Levi’s thoughts and voice. With him, there is a sense of having a real encounter with the writer, interviewed a year and a half before his suicide at his family home in Turin, April 11, 1987. Argentieri seems almost in a trance, speaking and moving with mathematical, systemic precision, in perfect adherence to the scientific and technical systematicity that Levi used in his testimony as both intellectual and survivor of the camps. There is not a single misplaced tone, nor any slip-up in his gestures or voice. Yet, for the audience present, there is no pretense, no interpretative distance: we are in the presence of Levi, and we forget – especially due to the proximity and resemblance – that the writer is dead. The author of I sommersi e i salvati is magically there among us, talking with us, and we find ourselves listening to him, almost in a trance ourselves. Fiction and reality become one because what Andrea Argentieri does is embody Levi’s words, or rather his voice, giving form to his thoughts with a monstrous effectiveness that leaves the audience speechless.

Il sistema periodico – For the second part of Se questo è Levi: Il sistema periodico, the Ponchielli stage is transformed into a chemistry lab. Large tables, the inscription “Arbeit macht frei” (work sets you free) on the fire curtain, some chemical formulas, and the periodic table. A chalkboard and a workbench with flasks and test tubes complete the setting. This is the context for the second leg of the journey in Se questo è Levi: Il sistema periodico. Andrea Argentieri wears a white lab coat and moves between the benches, seeking contact with the audience, addressing the spectators. Levi, the chemist, and Levi, the writer: Levi, who made chemistry his profession, and Levi, who viewed writing as a non-job, done in the night or during vacations, but no less demanding. Argentieri surprises again with his acting intensity, speaking in a round, warm, controlled, yet natural tone – naturally artificial, one might say. What comes from the director’s console of Luigi De Angelis through Argentieri’s earphones is transmitted to the audience with a vocal warmth that cools when Levi engages in reading excerpts from Il sistema periodico. Levi’s testimony as a writer in the Rai interviews and written pages intertwine to create a reflection linking chemistry and writing. Sublimating, refining, distilling – all chemical processes – become metaphors for thought that Argentieri offers to the spectators, who are called into the action, questioned by an actor who seems moved by an external force. Unlike the first part, in the writer’s study (i.e., the Ridotto’s Sala Rosa), where proximity was physical, the vastness of the stage changes the dynamics, offering a more official version of Levi – not lecturing, but undoubtedly playing the distance of the scientist who investigates, studies, and rationalizes. Yet, reason fails when it comes to describing the camps, explaining why that inscription sounded ironic, or how work did not set anyone free, but rather saved them. Perhaps.

I sommersi e salvati – “Do you think it is possible to annul the humanity of a man?” is one of the questions on the questionnaire that spectators received to interrogate/interview Primo Levi in the final part of Se questo è Levi. The audience, arranged on three sides of a square, asked questions to Levi/Andrea Argentieri, in a collective interview with the author of I sommersi e i salvati. The first question was posed by a child, an instinctive – though not random – choice. The young interviewer chose one of the questions – the last on the list – detached from the chronological horror of the camp experience and focused instead on the universal aspect of inhumanity. This is the true value of the Se questo è Levi experience. In Levi’s responses – selected by Luigi De Angelis and sent through the earphones to Andrea Argentieri – there is, beyond the recounting of the deportee’s experience, a present urgency when talking about the crystallization of memory, writing as testimony, or the imminent danger that the camp experience may resurface. Immediately, one thinks of Libyan detention camps, the migrant trade… and yet what Levi says is from thirty years ago. This is also the strength of this mimetic Levi, pressed by the questions of the audience, who plays along in building a questioning dialogue that unites us in a historical reflection destined to incarnate itself in the present, and perhaps even in the actor’s body. How much would Mario Apollonio have liked this work – in all its didactic nature – and his Storia dottrina e prassi del coro? Thanks to Fanny & Alexander, Primo Levi has returned to be close to us, becoming the body both interrogated and questioning. The words of the author of I sommersi e i salvati, prompted by the audience’s questions – like the tracks of a testimony playlist – have taken on a surprisingly timely meaning. Hence the choice of the child to ask that first question (the last on the list), free from history and projected into the universal that questions the particular. Se questo è Levi by De Angelis and Argentieri gives the rare ability to subliminate reality into hyperrealism, which, in its obsessive precision of rendering the original, becomes symbolic – a sign that encompasses everything and interrogates us, aided by the technique. Techné, in Greek, means art. Luigi De Angelis, through the technique – the audio recordings, the transmission of the voice to Argentieri, and his bodily translation in managing vocality – has created a kind of resurrection of Levi’s thought, an incarnation of his words and voice, marked by a mimetic realism that ultimately triumphs in an abstraction that questions all of us, beyond time and history, and perhaps even beyond good and evil.

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In the Body of Primo Levi, by Daniela Garutti | Istituto Storico Modena, January 27, 2020

More than facing an actor playing the role of Primo Levi, in Se questo è Levi one feels as though they are in the presence of a body— that of the talented Andrea Argentieri— filled and animated by the words, gestures, and even the Turin accent of the man, Levi.

In a metaphorical and real journey from the inside to the outside, from the intimacy of a study to the full exposure of a council chamber, that of the Municipality of Modena, the audience witnesses the autobiography of the writer, unfolding through answers to off-stage questions, readings of Levi’s works, narrative, and, lastly, questions from the audience.

The experience of the camp, the need-duty of testimony, his work as a chemist and a writer, the study and language, religion, the reflection on the past and present— Levi’s entire thought and life unfold in three stages: a study set up in the Crespellani Hall of the Civic Museums, where the writer at his desk answers a voice that questions him about family, faith, deportation, and the themes in Se questo è un uomo; a university classroom in the Sant’Eufemia complex, where Levi, in the role of chemist and teacher, speaks to the public seated at desks about the close relationship between chemistry and writing, communication and translation, his “marginal” work experiences, the camp, and the “transmutation of matter,” also drawing from Il sistema periodico; and finally, the council chamber in the heart of the city, where the audience takes their seats and freely asks the Levi-witness, in the center of the room, the 22 questions printed on a sheet given to each, in a repetition of the testimony exercise that Levi devoted years to, culminating in his work I sommersi e i salvati.

The fusion between actor and character is such that during the performance, there is an increasingly unsettling feeling of being in the presence of the very Primo Levi, in a fast-reverse that takes us back fifty years into the super-real suggestion of hearing live from a survivor of the camp, still “young” and in the full process of reflection. Moreover, the technique of remote acting, where throughout the performance the actor receives live directions via earpieces from director Luigi De Angelis, further amplifies the humanity and apparent spontaneity of the actor’s actions and voice, favoring a realism that again prompts reflection on the possibilities of transmitting/translating the memory of deportation in an era when the witness has disappeared.

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Living the Voice. Se questo è Levi. Interview with director Luigi De Angelis and actor Andrea Argentieri, who recently received two Ubu Awards for Special Project and Actor under 35 for the three-part project Se questo è Levi by Fanny & Alexander, by Viviana Raciti | Teatro e Critica, December 17, 2019

“But it really seems like him…” This is heard from the audience, several times. The adherence to the model, the ability to become a tool, an amplifier of voices, expressions, memories— that seeming not to be oneself but something else: Andrea Argentieri takes upon himself the performative nature of Primo Levi in this tripartite project by Fanny & Alexander, directed by Luigi De Angelis with dramaturgy by Chiara Lagani. But Levi, the subject, is not a fictional literary character, even if it is based on a historically verified foundation. The Levi to whom constant, inescapable reference is made, is that composed physicality and the voice subtly colored by the dialectal inflection, that calm, rational, reflective tone, never tainted by hate. He is, indeed, the Levi witness, the Levi writer, the chemist. But above all, he is the Levi orator, whose writing, as Luigi De Angelis recounts, “derives strongly from orality,” from that need to tell, not to shut himself away, and to pass on his testimony, as he attested in La tregua (The Truce), in which Levi recalls that, from the interminable return journey, he felt the need to speak and share what had happened to him with anyone who happened to cross his path.

The site-specific conception of Se questo è Levi, originally conceived for three locations ideally linked to his biography, gives way to other places that, in a certain way, succeed in evoking those relational dimensions: the more intimate, almost homey atmosphere of the first stage (which in Rome had been set in the foyer of the Valle Theater), the conference-like setting of the second (a cold and modern room at Palazzo Mattei), and finally the more inquisitorial space of the third (a wonderful reading room at the Angelica Library). Each of these places corresponds to different sources, as mentioned before, referring almost more to those not directly literary: interviews (like the one with Carlo Gozzi from 1985, presented in the first part, Se questo è un uomo), documentaries (the final act, Sommersi e salvati, is based on a sort of interrogation conducted by a group of students from Pesaro, to whom Levi offered himself, and whose footage is now on YouTube). Of course, Levi’s work is also present, for example, in the second part titled Il sistema periodico (The Periodic System), which includes excerpts from the book of the same name.

The term “not directly” refers to the fact that even the most spontaneous speech of the author presents its own recognizable and constant structure, just as the written form had to recover the dimensions of orality. Regarding these transitions from one medium to another, it is Levi himself, as De Angelis recalls, who emphasizes the necessity not to betray the original form of the work, not to modify “the urgency of testimony,” in favor of the so-called “super-realism.” For example, when reviewing his correspondence with his German translator at the end of Sommersi e salvati, Levi declared that, especially for Se questo è un uomo, he wanted to consider what was, for him, a compromise—the translation—as “a form of tape recorder for my experience,” capable of recovering in written words the exact texture, quality, and precise correspondence of every single term spoken. Thus, this project “tries to embody this formulation of Levi, attempting to be as much as possible an antenna, a channel, to capture that orality that still resonates in the present.”

Thus, the idea of super-realism mentioned by Levi aligns well with many characteristics of this project, from the essentiality of the scenic elements—almost isolating the material even at the expense of everything else—to the use of “heterodirection,” understood here as a further passage of testimony. In this exponential stripping away, one might wonder where and how it fits, how and what the artist chooses in this seemingly narrow space, what it can rise above: but, answers De Angelis, “if we were to add superstructures, other poetics, the risk is that this form would reach the audience less directly. Everything must be kept—the stumbling, that precise mode of speaking. If we had used the superstructures of theater, that proximity would have been less strong for me. So, the idea, from a directorial perspective, was to focus on the architecture of the texts and locations; this simple assembly of the basic elements should have been enough, nothing more.”

But behind this essentiality lies a profound exploration of how to render the figure of Levi. Here’s how Argentieri describes it: “For me, from the very beginning, from what I would call ‘first listens’ rather than ‘first rehearsals,’ my goal was to ‘be inhabited by a voice.’ My first and only artistic decision was to make a lot of space, to be as welcoming as possible to whatever I perceived. The voice became like a fluid: from my ears it began to travel throughout my body, as if I too were becoming a tape recorder. I allowed my instinctive side to work a lot.” Let’s open a moment to discuss “heterodirection,” a working method typical of Fanny & Alexander, which consists of directing actors through real-time audio cues via earpieces: in this case, it is not only, or primarily, De Angelis guiding Argentieri, but Primo Levi himself, whose words are continuously fed into the actor’s ears, subjecting him to a constant sensory stimulus that transforms into a subtle but pervasive interpretive work. This is, therefore, a body/voice presence that “reacts to the impulse rather than starting to process a script,” for a practice that practically relies on repeated deep listening and prolonged observation of videos, in order to absorb as much as possible the gestures, movements, prosody, and silences. “By combining the two, it’s inevitable that even at a muscular level, I almost feel his face, I try to make it rather than just feel it. I can see it from the expression of the people, who begin to look at me and listen to me with an attention that changes during the course of the marathon. I would describe it as a controlled meditation: I have control of it, but I leave a lot of space to give back and transmit everything I feel, the inflections, the pauses, the stumbles… It connects to a resonance in me: I don’t just hear it with my ears, but with my emotion, which I transmit all the time, without triggering that more rational part of the brain.”

De Angelis defines this practice as “inhabiting the voice,” which is able to recover “the soulful component, almost like the imprint of the spirit and psyche of a person. In recordings, many intimate issues are hidden; just as they are in our faces, even in the micro-variations in the filigree of the voice, traumas are hidden. It will never be a technical restitution.”

Especially in the third, interactive performance, Argentieri becomes a mediator between his voice, Levi’s voice, and the questions posed by the audience. Here, the 18 questions, presented to all on a sheet, become the basis for an ongoing dramaturgical construction, the order of which is dictated together, by the impulse of each spectator who chooses to wear, even if only for a moment, the role of the interrogator. Bathed in the preceding words, as if numbed by the presence of Levi, we accept the “as if” pact and no longer see the performance, but truly witness an interview, with real timing and rhythms. “I love those moments of suspension,” says De Angelis, “those moments of emptiness that are created for an instant. The pacing is given by the people, by the anxiety, by the speed of having to send the responses extracted from Levi’s writings to the console in response to the questions asked each time… All of this creates a very strong tension among everyone. You forget about the fiction, the initial contract that was made. It leaves room for another reception. It’s the place where we feel the most emotion, not only because of what we hear.”

We forget who we have in front of us, we forget the questionnaire, some people ask different questions, a very high tension is felt, as if so much else lingers in the air, that unspeakable thing on the brink of being questioned. I ask Argentieri: “Sometimes unforeseen events happen, as if they want to speak to his spirit, but I am very faithful to heterodirection and very respectful toward Levi. In those situations, I never improvise anything; everything must be related to the words he spoke. The first time, no one dared to ask question number 15, which asks if Levi ever considered turning his back on life. It has happened several times, there is a modesty, it creates discomfort every time. Once, in San Gimignano, we simulated Levi’s arrival during a press conference, and Daria Balduccelli (creator and curator of Nottilucente) posed the first two questions from Sommersi e salvati; a man, probably German, began to rant and shout at us, saying it was all in the past and buried, without realizing it was a fiction. Some women, on another occasion, asked me how I could have been in the concentration camps given my young age, thinking I had actually lived through them…”

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Fanny & Alexander Confronts History: A Theatrical Marathon Inside Primo Levi’s Voice, by Laura Novelli | paneacquaculture.net, December 5, 2019

You who live safe / in your warm houses, / you who find in the evening / food and friendly faces: / Consider whether this is a man / who works in the mud / who knows no peace / who fights for half a loaf of bread / who dies for a yes or no. / Consider whether this is a woman, / without hair and without a name / unable to remember / eyes empty and womb cold / like a frog in winter. / Meditate that this has been: / I command you these words. / Carve them into your heart / while at home or on the road, / lying down or getting up. / Repeat them to your children. / Or may your house crumble, / disease prevent you, / and your children turn their faces away from you.

These famous lines by Primo Levi are not present in the complex theatrical marathon that Fanny & Alexander dedicates to the Piedmontese writer. They are not present in the form of a recited or spoken performance, in the way one might expect them to be delivered to an audience. Yet, these words resonate deeply within the core meaning of the complex trilogy of monologues that retraces Levi’s human and historical journey.

An itinerant trilogy whose title, Se questo è Levi (If This is Levi), echoes the interrogative and procedural tone of the famous book/testimony published in 1947 (it was first printed by the small publishing house Francesco De Silva, later reissued by Einaudi), working exclusively with original and archival materials. For years, the Ravenna-based company has successfully experimented with remote acting techniques and hetero-direction (notable past works include Him, West, and Discorso grigio), employing expressive insights capable, especially in this latest setup, of flipping memory into an event-driven act, History into contemporary relevance, and evocation into an almost obsessive super-realism.

Based on audio documents such as radio and television interviews and videos recovered from RAI archives or YouTube, Chiara Lagani (playwright) and Luigi De Angelis (director) create a body of authentic words and testimonies that, transferred through headphones to the performer, become the voice within and behind his voice: a structure of speaking that follows the ear but, in turn, permeates the performative body, vibrating with those intimate and personal nuances that have always belonged to the mystery of the Actor and the reproducibility of their Art.

On one side, there is the actor, the extraordinary Andrea Argentieri, who takes on the role of Levi, becoming him as he emerges from the starting documents. On the other side, there is the universally human and essential value of a symbolic story that seems, and would like, to go beyond the interface between performer and character.

The performance is divided into three distinct but complementary moments: Se questo è un uomo (If This is a Man), Il sistema periodico (The Periodic System), and I sommersi e i salvati (The Drowned and the Saved), each presented in three different architectural and scenic spaces. The Roman performances of the play saw the first part take place in the foyer of the Teatro Valle, the second at Palazzo Mattei, and the third in the grand hall of the Biblioteca Angelica. A meditative pilgrimage through the heart of Renaissance Rome characterized the audience’s movement from one location to another, giving them the feeling of being within a design intended to add further symbolic substance to the entire experience: the journey does not interrupt the internal performance of each participant but rather enlivens, stirs, and sustains it. And the group truly becomes a “group”: a witness and simultaneously a living part of the work.

A well-ordered wooden desk. A lamp. A coat rack. Levi/Argentieri enters with elegant steps. He sits down. He gently arranges his objects. He turns on a “video typewriter” and answers questions posed by a journalist via ‘Skype’: the opening scene directly reflects an interview that Levi gave to Alberto Gozzi in 1985 for RAI. The voices of the interviewer and the interviewee chase each other with thoughtful rhythm, never emphatic, never overexposed. The relationship with memory, the horror of the concentration camp, chemistry, writing, and the role of the intellectual are at the center of a lucid, sharp, and incisive conversation that reflects on the monster Hitler, on the camp as a scientifically designed place for death. The tone of the excellent performer is detached, at times even ironic, propelled by a delicate and musical Turin accent. There is a search for concreteness in these extraordinary words. A search for balance and sincerity. The relationship with History is scrutinized through a painful awareness that has become thought. And no, there is no hatred in Levi’s responses. Just as there is no hatred in his book/testimony, because the instinct to survive, in the hell of Monowitz, “was stronger even than hatred.”

The next movement draws from some pages of Il sistema periodico (The Periodic System, a collection of stories published in 1975). Argentieri now dons a white coat and gives a lecture on scientific-philosophical concepts. Topics include sublimation, distillation, cobalt, potassium, and the composition of matter. But also the soul, humanitas, and – by contrast – monstrosity. The thread between past and present becomes increasingly taut: chemistry saved him from death in the camp (“Work sets you free,” he writes on the board in German), and now chemistry reveals, with rational pragmatism, that one cannot truly be considered a man when deprived of their soul; when reduced to a beast; when reduced to pursuing only basic needs like eating, clothing, sleeping. That’s it. Inexorably.

But it is the third and final phase that provides cohesion and an actual overtone of meaning and emotion to the marathon. Sitting around a long wooden table in the historic Roman library, surrounded by thousands of old volumes, the audience is now invited to interrogate the defendant, the witness, starting with a series of questions written on a typewritten sheet. By raising their hand, the audience takes on the role of asking, probing, rekindling personal and collective pain, and ultimately raising the central question of the entire play: how much this testimony is still, today, unsettling; how it speaks to us through the sensitivity of an actor – moreover, a young one – who allows Levi’s voice to pass through him and give Levi his own voice.

In this last scene, the dramaturgy draws from I sommersi e i salvati (The Drowned and the Saved, the title of the ninth chapter of Se questo è un uomo and later used as the title of an iconic essay in 1986), and it is truly difficult to say which question or answer is the most poignant. The idea emerges strongly that survival in that hell required luck, curiosity, linguistic knowledge, physical strength. That memory is a duty. That writing was a true act of survival for the author. That yes, “the annihilation of the humanity of man can be achieved.”

The interrogation lasts for less than an hour. Argentieri walks through the room, often approaching his interlocutors. He maintains a composure that seems to conflict, or at least dialectically engage, with the outrage of the invoked drama. But it is a winning, compassionate composure. At the end of the work – not coincidentally a trilogy, a modern echo of classical tragedy, assuming catharsis is even possible today – the Actor removes his headphones and reads the letter Levi wrote to his German translator for his most famous work. The testimony of truth now passes through language and through the search for a language as close as possible to what was actually used in the camp. The obsession with super-realism, indeed. Even here, composure triumphs over anger. Calm over the visceral. And the effect is even more bitter. Unforgettable. Admirable.

Primo Levi According to Fanny & Alexander: The Author, The Witness, The Man, by Michele Pascarella | Hystrio – Trimestrale di Teatro e Spettacolo, October 27, 2019

Balancing between theater and performance, Se questo è Levi raises a number of unavoidable, fierce questions about and to society through the rigorous and disorienting recounting of events that are both extremely distant and yet very much present. The project, directed with a Socratic attitude by Luigi De Angelis, is conceived as a triptych: Se questo è un uomo (If This Is a Man), Il sistema periodico (The Periodic System), I sommersi e i salvati (The Drowned and the Saved), drawing from the titles and themes of the first, fifth, and last works of the author. It is meant to inhabit three spaces of common life (in our case, a library, an organic farm, and the City Council Hall of Albenga) in order to give voice and body to the stories, to History.

Using hetero-direction, a device that Fanny & Alexander has been experimenting with for about fifteen years to question the perception and consistency of what is given to be seen on stage, Andrea Argentieri allows himself to be “crossed” by numerous discourses, gathered from documents and audio and video interviews from the RAI archives, of the famous writer, partisan, and Italian chemist, giving back his three souls through an eloquence that is simultaneously assertive and punctuated with stumbles, energetic and full of syncopated pauses.

The “super-realism” that characterizes Se questo è Levi, made possible by the interpretive willingness to act as a vehicle for what is heard in the headphones, like a sort of transparent and consistent tape recorder, is constantly challenged by protean displacements: an old typewriter placed next to a laptop on stage in the first episode; a moment in which the protagonist deliberately abandons the Turin accent of the “character” in the second, and so on. The role of the spectator changes: initially a passive witness, they become, in the third episode, an active subject, engaging in dialogue with the protagonist. Chemistry and work, both in the factory and in the detention camp, progress alongside writing in this moving discourse, a form that the Ravenna-based ensemble has often explored and practiced, and which now seems to achieve exactly what it aims to “describe, with the utmost rigor and the least clutter”: as Primo Levi would have done. Well done.

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“Se questo è Levi” by Fanny & Alexander, by Maria Dolores Pesce | dramma.it, September 13, 2019

It took part in all three days of the Festival, a show by its very definition itinerant in time and space, and in my opinion, it was the most interesting and intense event of the entire Festival. A complex dramaturgical movement built almost like a musical staff, or rather like the table of the “Periodic System of Elements,” as an echo captured from the existential, ethical, and aesthetic journey of Primo Levi. However, its final and intimate purpose seems to be to transcend itself syntactically and linguistically, as a dramaturgy, going beyond or rather revealing itself fully as an appropriate container of a sincerity that, in the broadest sense, transcends it. Each movement is almost a pause, a whirlpool, in the flow of Primo Levi’s existence, marked by the time of his writing, from Se questo è un uomo (If This Is a Man) to Il sistema Periodico (The Periodic System) and finally to I sommersi ed i salvati (The Drowned and the Saved). The hand of the playwright selects and restructures these works in different syntaxes with a participatory care, making it their own without betraying it in any way. The most hidden aspects of Primo Levi’s search emerge clearly: he was a chemist before a writer, as he himself emphasized, but above all, he was an “organic” intellectual in the highest sense of the word, striving for the surgical and almost scientific clarity of the discourse on humanity, beyond the rhetoric that suffocates it, and towards the awareness that should ultimately liberate him. All of this is appropriately emphasized by the environments chosen to immerse us in his discourse and words: the private study for the video interview at first, the laboratory later, and finally the council hall, the institutional space where an attempt at shared and community elaboration takes place. Places that, instead of creating an alienating distance from the aesthetic perception, emphasize its capacity for translation and metamorphosis from appearance to reality, and thus to the sincerity that overlaps life and theater. A work that is intense, engaging, and at times moving, and precisely because of its unusual historical and historicizing perspective, of extraordinary, unfortunately once again, relevance. A relevance that Primo Levi’s words present as a continuous warning, because at the end of the chain of intolerance lies the concentration camp: “It is the product of a worldview taken to its consequences with rigorous consistency: as long as the conception persists, the consequences threaten us.”

Within this surprising aesthetic journey, Andrea Argentieri, excellently directed by Luigi De Angelis, is brilliant in literally taking on the mental and emotional figure of Primo Levi, almost transfiguring his own presence into that of the lost writer, to recover it in the here and now of the stage, almost astonished.

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“Primo Levi Emerso da Terreni Fertili” by Renato Palazzi, Il Sole 24 Ore | Domenicale, September 1, 2019

[… ] One of the key titles this year was Se questo è Levi, a three-part journey by Luigi De Angelis/Fanny & Alexander through the thought and work of the author of Se questo è un uomo (If This Is a Man). I attended the third part in the council hall of the Municipality of Albenga, where the audience could ask crucial – and, of course, predetermined – questions to the actor playing him, who responded with the words of Levi, drawn from public meetings and interviews. I found this close dialogue with a ghost of memory particularly impressive: the actor’s adherence to the character, Andrea Argentieri, who, following Levi’s recorded voice through headphones, vividly mirrored his slight Turin accent, gestures, and internal attitudes with precision. But what was even more striking and unsettling was the surgical clarity with which this witness to horror placed the matrices of Levi’s experience in a broader context, beyond fascism and Nazism, evoking alarming parallels to our present.

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Albenga, Terreni Creativi 2019. A Real Ovation Greets the Protagonist of Se questo è Levi, by Alfredo Sgarlato | Albenga Corsara, August 12, 2019

Due to health issues, I was only able to attend the third evening of Terreni Creativi 2019, which I will now recount. The first performance was the third part of Se questo è Levi, a production by Fanny & Alexander, one of the most brilliant companies in the Italian theater scene, directed by Luigi De Angelis, with Andrea Argentieri. The performance took place in the council hall of the Municipality of Albenga and is based on I sommersi e i salvati (The Drowned and the Saved). It is presented in the form of an interview, with a series of questions posed by the audience to the actor portraying Levi. It so happened that just a few hours earlier, I had seen a film clip of Levi on TV, and I was able to appreciate how the actor’s physical and vocal embodiment was perfect, even impressive. Levi’s text is of fundamental importance and highlights a couple of concepts that should be carved in stone: fascism was no different from Nazism; it was not “kinder” and its inevitable outcome was extermination, and if it failed, it was because of the natural inability of Italians to follow the laws. Secondly, fascism can always exist; it is any ideology that exalts privilege and inequality. This is a work that should be brought to schools and aired in prime time on TV. The protagonist was greeted with a genuine ovation.

“Se questo è Levi” by Maddalena Giovannelli | Stratagemmi, March 28, 2019

The challenge of reproducing reality – and the awareness of its impossibility – has always been one of the obsessions of thinkers and artists. Is it possible to strip away all the embellishments and return reality, even in its brutal and anti-aesthetic aspects? Or is it inevitable to alter and distort it? Primo Levi, among many others, also pondered these themes. In his dense correspondence with the German translator of Se questo è un uomo (If This Is a Man), Levi emphasizes the need to not betray the burning horror of the facts with words: “I was driven by a scruple of super-realism,” he recalls, “I wanted nothing of those harshnesses to be lost in the book… it had to be, more than a book, a tape recorder.”

From these reflections, Se questo è Levi was born, presented by Fanny & Alexander during the second weekend of the 2019 Vie Festival. The image Levi chose to represent his drive for truth – to create not a book, but “a tape recorder” – has a striking similarity with the method of work the Ravenna-based company has followed for many years: heterodirection, meaning the transmission of audio tracks to the performer, who then reproduces them live to the audience. What better way, then, to honor Levi’s “super-realistic scruple” than to mimic not only his words but even his voice and mannerisms?

The project, conceived and directed by Luigi De Angelis, draws from audio and video documents in the Rai archive and is a true spiritual summons of Primo Levi. On stage, actor Andrea Argentieri embodies with impressive precision Levi’s posture and appearance, using his own body as a medium for the words and thoughts of the Turin intellectual. The performance has a three-part structure (the sections are titled after three of Levi’s works: Se questo è un uomo, Il sistema periodico (The Periodic System), I sommersi e i salvati (The Drowned and the Saved)) and is designed to be experienced in its entirety as a two-and-a-half-hour marathon, but also in individual segments. It is presented in non-theatrical venues – at Vie in the beautiful Palazzo Foresti in Carpi, and later in the Museum of the Deported at the Fossoli Foundation – and it is easy to understand the reasoning behind this choice: the stage is the quintessential place of fiction and emphasis, and it is ill-suited to the delicate act of mimicry envisioned by Fanny & Alexander.

In the first chapter of the trilogy, Argentieri appears and sits at a worktable that, with its “drawers and assorted stationery,” mirrors exactly the description given by Levi. However, De Angelis introduces an ironic twist, imagining that the conversation with Alberto Gozzi (who interviewed Levi in 1985 for RAI, and whose interview is presented in full in the first part of the performance) takes place via Skype. The violent dialectic between past and present is already active in Levi’s words, who imagines his desk divided between the southern side of the typewriter and the northern side of his word processor, “my current idol, to which I prostrated myself.” Skype is certainly not the only concession to the present in this reenactment: it is the audience, by being present, who constantly brings the spoken words to the “here and now,” and so the half-spoken comments, the smiles in response to Levi’s Sardinian humor, almost seem to interfere with the transmission of the track.

The potential for a vivid dialogue with a ghost, silently explored in the first two parts, becomes central in the third chapter: the audience, placed around the actor, can now choose which question to ask the Levi avatar, selecting from a list of questions. Levi’s reflections then explode into the present, so to speak, invading it, simultaneously confirming and denying the possibility of reproducing reality without altering it. In addition to the interference of the audience, there is a deeper one: that of the actor, who lends his body to the reenactment but cannot entirely eliminate his own personal physical, emotional, and psychic presence.

That subtle hesitation, that slight roughness in the voice – will it be in the track? And that small stumble, as a hint of emotion, which briefly interrupts the lines of Se questo è un uomo – is it Argentieri’s or Levi’s? But it is precisely the possibility of a deviation, that fracture which opens between reality and its copy, that transforms the inert testimony into life.

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A Rite for Primo Levi, by Massimo Marino | Doppiozero, March 21, 2019

We are constantly fighting with a memory that fades, not only due to the advancing age but especially because of distractions, the relentless bombardment of stimuli, and the external supports that tell you: just press a button and find news, you don’t even have to get up to grab a book or go find a newspaper…

I confess my method: when I see shows, I write, I write a lot, I try to capture everything I feel, see, and experience. Since I take notes in the dark, when I go back to reread them, I can hardly understand what I’ve written. But sometimes, as with Se questo è Levi, a “performance/reading tour about the work of Primo Levi,” the light is good. The three acts unfold in well-lit environments. I can carefully jot down notes, always with the anxiety of losing something from the flow of the performance. Silvio D’Amico, the great critic, founder of the Accademia d’Arte Drammatica and the Encyclopedia of Theater, used to say: during the performance, abandon yourself to it, don’t take notes, don’t think about what you’ll write down later, the brilliant connections, the sharp ideas. Be like in a trance, robbed by what you see (that’s how I understood it). Then at home, under that other spotlight, the light from the desk lamp, you’ll download your sensations onto paper, seasoning them with references, analysis, and thoughts… Well, for me, trance is about capturing everything I can, prolonging the performance through my hand in notes, and then, at home, in front of the cold light of the computer screen, almost always not even looking at what I’ve written, but re-memorizing, re-tracing through what I’m jotting down on the screen of my writing program. Also because I often lose those notebooks, even when I’ve written comfortably.

In the case of Se questo è Levi, there was only one moment of anxiety: in which jacket had my neatly legible pages gone? Or which bag? I was preparing to challenge memory, and then I found it, the notebook. The notes begin, accurately describing the small table, placed (probably) in a corner, slightly askew, with a few objects. A typewriter on one side, a word processor on the other (the 1980s ancestor of the computer), an ashtray, glasses, a glass of water, pens, and pencils. But this time, I close my notes right away because this unusual show (but not too much) in the creative line of Fanny & Alexander presents a challenge: to memory and the ways to nourish it.

We are at the Vie Festival, organized by Emilia Romagna Teatro Fondazione. Se questo è Levi takes place in Carpi, the Emilian city where the writer was interned in the Fossoli camp before his deportation to the concentration camp. And this is already very powerful. As intense as the presence of the place chosen for the start: Palazzo Foresti, the residence of the family that invented the industrial vocations of the area, first wood processing, then straw hat manufacturing, and finally the yarn industry. A restored palace, with rooms furnished in late nineteenth-early twentieth-century style. We are in a hall with books on the walls and large paintings, like the dark silhouette of a mother holding her child up high. The small table is in a corner under a window.

Primo Levi appears, or rather, of course, the actor who plays him, Andrea Argentieri. He does everything to resemble him, to embody him, and while his physique isn’t an exact match, his appearance is. Throughout the actions, we increasingly feel as though we are in front of the writer, returned among us to celebrate his hundredth birthday.

The action is composed of three parts, each lasting about forty minutes. The first, at Palazzo Foresti, is based on a radio interview with Primo Levi conducted by Alberto Gozzi, a comprehensive journey through his life, from his education and youthful interests to the racial laws, the concentration camp, his work as a chemist, and his writing career. From what he says, echoes of a house full of people can be heard, a place with little room for solitude or meditation; a writing soaked in human relationships, in voices, a memory that constantly interacts with the present.

Argentieri, excellent and sly, with a slight Turin accent, does not speak from memory: he wears a visible earpiece, from which the audio of the interview comes, and he repeats it, adding his own tone of “Primo Levi.” This is the technique developed in shows now famous by the Ravenna-based company Fanny & Alexander, that of heterodirection: in shows like Him or West or Discorsi – particularly the impressive Discorso Grigio where actor Marco Cavalcoli was permeated by the voices of various political figures – the text becomes a flow that reveals fragments of reality, action, and imagination (in Him, it was the Wizard of Oz film with Judy Garland) and pours them onto the audience through the passive yet virtuosic medium of the actor. The relationship becomes rich between material, abandonment of the “interpreter,” invasion, involuntary selection, and transformation. In short, acting becomes a relationship with a living memory that often leaves gaps and fragments, like trying to keep up with a film. In Se questo è Levi, the shadow of the author is evoked through his gestures and words, to be compared with that other figure lurking in the twilight of the room: the memory of the audience.

We are in a new form of theater realism, playing with fragments taken from the movements of the world, re-enacted (reenactment), as Milo Rau does, always with a shift, a margin, the possibility of a black hole, and the insinuating thought that the materials surrounding us – whether artistic productions, orders coming from a distant voice, or snippets of other people’s lives – can invade us, and invade means to enter inside, over us, assault us, possess us, causing, every time, a struggle, a disbelief, a battle, a reaction.

After the first act, after a speech that gradually reaches the root, the testimony of Se questo è un uomo, starting from the past and continuously flooding into the present, we move. In the initial station, we were few, as many as can fit into a confession, a room, however large (in Bologna, where the show premiered, we were in a private apartment, packed). Now, we enter the auditorium of the library. And Argentieri-Primo Levi reappears, wearing a chemist’s coat, in front of a lectern and a Mendeleev periodic table. He will tell us about Il sistema periodico, the 1975 collection of stories, where Levi recalls his experiences and looks at the world, giving each chapter the name of a chemical substance. Here he will mention Hydrogen, Potassium, and Chromium in a lecture that clarifies the inspiration and method of his writing.

“I have the impression, in short, that the taste for concreteness, for the defined, for the word used to communicate comes to me precisely from this profession, I feel the profession of writing as a public service that must work,” we hear him repeat. And the chemist, descended from the ancient alchemists, is a transformer of matter: from that technical work (as he defines it) come the characteristics of his writing, the tendency to always communicate clearly, concisely. He also recalls his secular family background, the scientific spirit that guided him (he had already mentioned it in the previous act, recalling all the doubts about God that the camp instilled).

But there’s another fact he remembers, between speeches on the essences of elements that evoke being, purifying minerals, distilling, sublimating, and other activities in the scientific laboratory that extend to attitudes and operations of the soul. He says that much of his inspiration, his concrete writing, has a fundamental role for autobiography. He concludes, from the chapter Cromo, recalling his first job after the war, with a difficult chemical task, solved after the weekend when he met the woman who would become his wife: life, still tainted by the camp, began to smile.

The final shift takes us to the place of pain: the Museum of the Deportee of the Fossoli Foundation. Large rooms with display cases containing few documents, with walls marked by large images and names, names engraved on the walls. The finale, inspired by I sommersi e i salvati, takes place with the audience positioned on all four sides and the actor at the center of the ring in a room with squared columns, all marked with the names of victims of the fury. The audience holds a sheet with questions from an interview with the writer: each person, by raising their hand, can ask one of the questions, not necessarily in the order of the list. Argentieri will answer with Levi’s words, retracing the imprisonment, the difference between the German camps, designed for extermination like the Khmer Rouge camps in Cambodia, and the terrifying Stalinist gulags, intended more for long-term imprisonment, which may have had death as an effect but not as the primary aim. He retraces Levi’s relations with the German people, the peaceful attitude of the author, unable to harbor hatred, even though he does not shy away from recalling, without sweetening anything, how he was saved thanks to his work as a chemist. There are also questions that the actor, the writer, does not answer, deferring to a “later” that will never come until the end, and questions about trauma and memory.

The rite closes, this strange presentation that would do well to remain as a model for creating public remembrance. What are we left with? The deep need for time, for real immersion, without distractions or interruptions, in the lives and stories of others. The need to go beyond ourselves and give weight to memory, to ensure that it is not forgotten.

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The Relevance (and Necessity) of Primo Levi in the Fanny&Alexander Performance, by Federica Angelini | Ravenna & Dintorni, October 12, 2018

An extraordinary operation in its apparent simplicity. The Primo Levi project by Fanny & Alexander is nothing less than this. In a hyperrealism that sees the talented Andrea Argentieri on stage in the role of the chemist, writer, intellectual, and witness that he was, Levi literally seems to come back to life, to testify. Argentieri succeeds in the difficult task of giving substance, voice, intonation, and gesture to a figure who changed the way we think, remember, and piece together our history, without betraying its depth, sobriety, and authenticity.

In a triptych that touched a private study, the Dantesque room of the Classense Library, and the Municipal Council Chamber yesterday (Thursday, October 11) in Ravenna, we were able to experience a material, intellectual, and emotional journey that brought back the depth of Primo Levi, highlighting his necessity and modernity.

It is pointless to deny that the passing of time, the distancing from what Nazism and Fascism were, of which the concentration camp – as he explains, having lived it – is the logical consequence, risks turning even testimonies like his into “school material.” And make no mistake, it is good for this to be in all schools. But the danger is that it could be listed among other “school materials,” losing its literary greatness as well.

Levi’s story is one without hatred, the story of a scientist, or rather, a technician, who approached words with the same precision, completeness, and essentiality as a chemist. Argentieri and Luigi de Angelis (director) capture this, the physical three-dimensionality as well as the intellectual dimension of Levi, without adding, without rewriting, but giving his words a living voice and thus returning them to their full completeness. In some ways, they compel the audience to become readers again, to revisit those pages perhaps read many years ago, now somewhat faded, and to do so together, in that mirror which is the theater, but outside of the theater.

“Everyone should see it” has become an overused and abused phrase, often used recklessly. But no, not in this case. Primo Levi’s work is foundational to our essence as democrats, anti-racists, Europeans, and secularists. In his thinking, there is the ability to combine political consciousness, civil engagement, existential reflection, and historical analysis, sentiment and intellect. There are no enemies in Primo Levi. There is a need to remember, to understand, without rhetoric, without emphasis, without prejudices even about the perpetrators, but driven by a clear need for justice, to fight against oppression, to defeat fascism in every form. Without turning anyone into a devil or a hero. And isn’t this perhaps what we all, now more than ever, desperately need?

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Living Primo Levi: The Evocation – Hyperrealistic – of the Dear Departed by Fanny & Alexander, by Iacopo Gardelli | Ravenna & Dintorni, October 18, 2018

Primo Levi and Luigi De Angelis walk side by side. The former wears a grey jacket and the proverbial square glasses, carrying an old leather bag. The latter has a backpack on his shoulders. They speak to each other, getting lost in the twilight of Via Guaccimanni in Ravenna, heading toward the Classense Library for the chemistry lecture.

This is not the beginning of an improbable science fiction novel, but the scene that left the strongest impression on me during the Levi Marathon created by Fanny & Alexander. No offense to the people directly involved, but it was this connecting moment, which did not fit into the actual performance, that moved me the most. Here, more than anywhere else, the dedication to the character and the hyperrealistic precision with which Fanny & Alexander prepared this project stand out: the actor must inhabit Levi even outside the stage, beyond the theatrical illusion.

The entire triptych dedicated to the great Turin writer exudes this commitment to mimesis. Andrea Argentieri worked on the voice (raspy enough, tinged with a refined Piedmontese accent) and on gestures to adhere as closely as possible to the historical reality. De Angelis focused the directorial attention on audiovisual materials from the Rai archives, avoiding written words as much as possible in favor of the live, documentary voice from Levi’s interviews.

The result of this long study is not only an exceptional itinerant performance (the first part set in a private study; the second in the Dantesque room of the Classense Library; the third in the City Council Chamber). I would even dare to say, at the risk of sounding ridiculous, that the result is above all a sort of mediumistic exercise. Almost a collective séance to evoke a dear departed one through the medium of the actor’s body.

Already during the first phase of the performance, If This Is a Man, after a few minutes before our eyes, we no longer see the excellent Argentieri; we see and hear Levi himself. We love the actor’s half-smiles and polite manners, just as we loved those of the writer; we are struck by his cold, precise words as though we were hearing them directly from the Auschwitz survivor.

Here lies the secret of the hyperrealism chosen by Fanny & Alexander: far from being a virtuosity, it is justified for two reasons. First, as mentioned, to achieve this mediumistic transition and bring back a now distant (and, alas, somewhat neglected today) absence; second, to pay homage to the philosophy of Levi’s writing.

Levi’s writing, obsessed with precision, adherence to reality, verifiability, and brevity. A style that owes much to Anglo-Saxon literature and should today be taught as a model in all Italian schools (as suggested by Claudio Giunta in a recent essay). Levi’s writing is not only permeated by the commitment to testimony but also a monument to the respect for the reader’s intelligence.

For this reason, I believe that If This Is Levi is, among the performances I have seen from the Ravenna-based company, the most ethically grounded. Fanny & Alexander had already accustomed us to profound political reflections (Discorso grigio, We Need Money!, and in its own way Him); this marathon is above all ethical because Levi’s example – skillfully filtered and edited through De Angelis’ choice of interviews – teaches us a higher way of living and understanding.

Levi shows us the commitment to reality, to a perspective free from dogma, to the deep study of relationships between things. His literary super-realism, rooted in the scientific method, teaches us to judge thoughtfully and not to take anything for granted (“For Nazi war criminals, I feel only curiosity. I am incapable of hatred,” he admits with a smile), without falling into moral laxity (“If I were God, I would spit out the prayer of my Hungarian Jewish friend”). The phrase must be like a chemical formula: unassailable and measured against reality.

It is especially in The Periodic Table, the second stage of the marathon in the form of a public lecture, that Levi shares his approach to writing, while also revealing his more human side. Here, he talks about his work as a chemist, his university training; he speaks dreamily about distillation and alchemy; he recounts the memorable rediscovery of love after the experience of the camps.

The final phase of the project is, in my view, the most interesting and experimental. After the public lecture, Levi moves to the Town Hall for a question time, urged to respond to direct questions from the audience. An effective theatrical device that, despite some technical hiccups, woke up the usually shy Ravenna audience. Here, we enter the most painful chapter of his work, the one dedicated to The Drowned and the Saved: the role and meaning of memory; the concentration camp universe; the recollection of the violence endured.

Perhaps Fanny & Alexander might fall into the most obvious and natural temptation of this performance, thus closing an ideal circle: bringing it to the very places inhabited by Levi – his study, his university, his library. A final tribute to his super-realism.

P.S. Seduced by Argentieri’s brilliance during the three stages of the marathon, I couldn’t help but confirm a suspicion I had for some time. Primo Levi was not just a great prose writer, nor the exceptional survivor of the most terrible human catastrophe of the 20th century. Primo Levi was one of our highest thinkers, able to combine simplicity and depth, engaged in a critical and adogmatic rationalism like Arendt or Karl Popper abroad. Levi does not teach us a doctrine, but a critical method: and that is the most precious gift he can give us.

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In the Face of Levi’s Words. Memory and Theatre in Bologna with Fanny & Alexander, by Damiano Pellegrino | BolognaTeatri, February 7, 2018

The latest effort by Fanny & Alexander, the theatre company founded in Ravenna in 1992 by Luigi De Angelis and Chiara Lagani, is a long, itinerant marathon in the city of Bologna to commemorate the victims of the Holocaust, divided into three stages, with its core focused on Primo Levi’s literary works. Among the “spoken” characters, a hallmark of much of the company’s work, we must include the portrait of the Turin writer presented firsthand by Andrea Argentieri in the project titled Se questo è Levi (If This Is Levi). In one of the company’s previous shows, Him (2007), part of a large project called O/Z, a kneeling little Hitler assumed all the voices and sounds of the film The Wizard of Oz by Victor Fleming, relentlessly following the entire dubbing process and embodying the role of a conductor overwhelmed by the sound. The Discorsi project (2011-2014), comprising six works, examined the forms of public speeches addressed to a community through the presence of emblematic figures on stage who endure the heterodirected language of the mass media, becoming puppets or terrifying creatures meant to replicate the voices and movements of more or less famous figures from various sectors of society, creating a short-circuit of speech turned automated and intermittent on stage.

In Se questo è Levi, there is a single actor on stage who, through vocal inflections, facial expressions, gestures, pauses, clothing, and precise terminology used in his speeches (the movements of the body, silences, and content derived from texts), skillfully shapes an exact and utterly unpretentious or parodic copy of the Turin writer, demonstrating how powerful, provocative, and still relevant Levi’s reflections are, even today, when presented to an audience.

The journey that began on Saturday, January 27, unfolds across three symbolic locations, each of which encloses a particular performance and strongly influences both the interpreter’s space and the audience’s receptivity, while reconnecting to both the personal and public spheres of the writer. The selected locations include a private home, the Aula Magna of the Department of Chemistry “G. Ciamician”, which contains benches, wall-mounted blackboards, a large desk, and a periodic table of chemical elements, and finally, the Council Hall of Palazzo Malvezzi, set to host an eccentric Provincial Council meeting, where the audience itself takes on the role of the protagonist, armed with tabletop microphones to speak. Given the large number of spectators eager to follow the entire work and the limited seating for the first performance, I missed the first event scheduled for 5:17 PM. From Via G.B. De Rolandis, I then headed toward Piazza Verdi, waiting for the start of the second performance on Via Francesco Selmi, scheduled for 7:00 PM.

In the second performance, titled Il sistema periodico (The Periodic Table), the grandeur of the chemistry lecture hall corresponds to Levi’s reflection on the two opposing functions that accompanied him throughout his life: chemistry and the “non-profession” of writing. On one side, we have the scientific disciplines, skillfully manipulated by an alchemist, destined to transmute and sublimate matter until it extracts the essence and soul of an element, bringing order and law to the universal chaos. On the other side is writing, which, when endangered by distorted and nauseating stories, finds redemption and nobility when drawing on the clarity of a magical art like chemistry, turning into a public service that all readers should have unrestricted access to. Through a very telling comparison, Levi, returning to Italy from Poland, compares himself to the old bearded man in Coleridge’s ballad, ready to entertain guests with a tale of the dead. He downplays his writing, bringing it closer to that of a war veteran, distant from the world of the living. But as time passes, the words in his writings transform into a lucid and concrete testimony of his time in Auschwitz, revitalizing like a plant and projecting itself into the future, challenging everything and everyone.

The audience is called upon to become the bearer of the memory of the violence and repression caused by the Nazi forces, on one hand, through listening to the author’s account, which also becomes a deep reflection on the present time, and on the other hand, through a list of questions to be asked of the performer. This occurs in the final performance titled I sommersi e i salvati (The Drowned and the Saved), in which the spectators are drawn into a “question time” at the very end, where they must ask the author-actor several questions, written by the company itself, intended to overlap with Primo Levi’s voice, thereby feeding the performance with new inputs and shifting the center of the theatrical action into the audience.

The unified movement of an indistinct group of people, walking through the city streets and following the entire project, becomes a journey of memory, destined to keep alive the remembrance of those victims, but above all, to encourage a current and participatory debate on those events that shook the entire European territory. Just as the author was certain that he could perpetuate the memory of those brutal events in the German people through the 1961 edition of If This Is a Man published in Germany by the Fischer publishing house, and whose translation was meticulously followed by Levi himself, today the city streets of Bologna continue to question this deep wound, still unhealed.

The Row Over the New Superintendent at La Scala is Terrible, But Theatre in Milan is Experiencing a Golden Age, by Paolo Martini | Il Fatto Quotidiano, March 10, 2024

[…] But it is certainly what happens beyond the most well-known or established halls, often even outside the very physical spaces of the theatre, that gives the impression of an active cultural life among the city’s passionate spectator-citizens. A sort of institutional crowning of this phenomenon was the hosting, in the unusual setting of the municipal council chamber of Palazzo Marino, on March 6, of the touching performance Se questo è Levi with Andrea Argentieri, which Fanny & Alexander have truly perfected, without any easy winks at the present or post-television language.

It made a great impression on the approximately 150 spectators who managed to book in advance to find themselves in front of an actor who so effectively conveys the complexity of this writer-scientist-survivor. This event is part of the Stanze da Alberica Archinto project, which animates it, and Se questo è Levi also actively collaborated with the excellent Olinda association, which every summer organizes the beautiful festival ‘Da vicino nessuno è normale’ at the former Paolo Pini psychiatric hospital.

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Argentieri as Levi’s Medium. Reviving the Horror of the Camps, by Walter Ronzani | Il Giornale di Vicenza, January 29, 2024

For the Day of Remembrance, La Piccionaia stepped out of the Astra Theatre to invade a public space like the council chamber of Palazzo Trissino, which on Saturday hosted the moving performance Se questo è Levi by the Fanny & Alexander company. The location was not chosen by chance, as it reminds the audience that in the past, in other legislative halls, racial laws were decided, deliberated, and imposed. The result is an intense experience that both moves and makes one reflect. The spectators settle in the council benches, each finding a sheet with 25 questions that were actually asked of Levi. The audience is invited to speak and ask one of these questions to actor Andrea Argentieri, who responds with the words Levi used in his interviews. In this interactive monologue, the actor is surrounded by the audience who questions him. He wears earphones through which recordings of Levi’s responses reach him, which he interprets live. It’s a complex exercise that the audience doesn’t notice. In fact, the only hesitations are those that the writer showed to his interviewers of the time, which the actor replicates in his “super-realistic” effort to faithfully convey his testimony. This doesn’t take away from Argentieri’s ability to be in tune with the audience, responding to spontaneous questions that come up off-script. Argentieri almost plays the role of a medium, allowing himself to be traversed by Levi’s words to give them form. This is all amplified by a commendable actor’s mimesis, passing through gestures and facial expressions, which manage to make the writer’s inner emotions come to life. It feels as though you are truly face to face with Primo Levi.

What strikes the most is his lucid analysis of the horror of the camps, which he describes with scientific precision, delving into the intimate essence of things. There are also fragments of private life, such as the memory of the song “Amado mio”, which was the soundtrack to his happy moments when he returned to life as a man.

The questions follow one another. One is brutal: “Did the things you describe really exist?” The response recalls that the duty of memory is a never-ending task. Among the many questions asked, one arises spontaneously: paraphrasing another great Jewish intellectual, Paul Celan, one wonders, “Who testifies for the witness?” In other words, who will take responsibility for this burden of tragic memories? Se questo è Levi answers implicitly, showing that memory is a collective act, which cannot be left to the individual victim, but is a responsibility of the entire community.